Good morning, all!

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Also, remind me not to read any more articles about the octuplets. I was already uncomfortable with the whole situation (and the avoiding-the-media shit is hilarious ... like, seriously, you morons, how long do you think that's going to last?) and now it comes out that she was taking fertility treatments when she already had six kids at home between the ages of 7 and 2. I have a thing for reading about higher-order multiple births and I can't recall many where the parents had so many children already. The Dionne quints ... and that's about it off the top of my head. And they certainly weren't the result of fertility drugs.

On one hand, it's every woman's choice what to do with her own body and I respect that. On the other hand, I can't decide who's the biggest idiot in this situation -- the mom, the doctors who say stupid shit like, "Who am I to say six is the limit? Some people like big families," which is true until you realize how dangerous eight fucking fetuses crammed into one uterus is and who's supposed to inform the mother of that (oh, right, it's the DOCTOR), or the mom's parents who are all, "They have a huge house, but you'll never find it!" Why, is it invisible? Do you reeeeeaaaaally want to dare the media to look for it? Really? 'Cause they will, and then they won't leave until they get baby pictures. See, you think I'm joking, grandpa ...

You know what?

Every time I feel like I'm not creative, I'll have to check out my list I just wrote out of novels I want to write. There's fourteen books on the list. This is not counting story ideas in the notebooks I still haven't gone through and the nine Books of Boggs I haven't finished. That's just off the top of my head.

So, you know, it's not like I don't have anything to write. It's just that the winter's depressing the hell out of me and my writer's block is giving me a migraine.

HEE!

( This Merlin secret that showed up on fandomsecrets today makes the world a better place. )

Heh.

So, yeah. Today I went to Panera and then went to my parents's house and now I'm back home and I have accomplished nothing. At least it feels that way. I have made that list of story ideas to work on, and I've had a throbbing headache all damn day so there's that.

Considering what a bug-eyed little alien-esque kid she was, I'm impressed by how pretty and well-put-together Dakota Fanning is turning out to be. Granted, as the GFY girls point out, this could change any minute now, but at least she's got two up on Taylor Momsen, who keeps wearing skirts and dresses hemmed to within microscopic view of her reproductive system and didn't seem to know what to do with her hair after she gave herself Shelley Long's mullet from the Brady Bunch movies with safety scissors. (I think Taylor Momsen is pretty, I do. Just ... I'm amazed I haven't spotted underwear yet, is all.)

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